When the Jazz Fades
by Elerrina Star
Summary: Post-movie. The events of the past few weeks finally come crashing in and Hannibal finds himself staggering under the weight of it all. It's time for the boys to show their colonel that he doesn't always have to handle everything on his own. No-slash.


A/N: This fic is entirely the fault of the ever brilliant **DjDangerLove**. Thanks to her (amazing) one-shots for this fandom I found myself watching the movie again and - BAM! - instant love. So I dedicate this humble fic to you, **DjDangerLove**; thanks for re-introducing me to such an awesome fandom. It is mostly movie verse, but there're a few (very, very slight) references to the TV show as well. It's also picks up not long after the movie ends and deals with a few of the unresolved h/c moments in the film, so major spoilers. Rated for some swearing. No slash.

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was the movie would have contained a lot more comfort to make up for several of the hurts - especially between Face and Hannibal.

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><p>Hannibal was lost.<p>

It was a feeling that he hadn't often experienced, yet over the last several days had become uncomfortably well acquainted with. Usually the former colonel knew exactly what was to be done, and how, and when, and why. Usually he could look at any problem and find the out, the solution. With him there was always a plan, a certainty that shone as a sparkle in his eye, a glimmer of pure Hannibal that Murdock had once referred to as "the Jazz".

Only now that sparkle was gone. Somewhere in the last few days the jazz had been lost. Hannibal didn't know when it had gone away, when his ability to foresee things, to be three steps ahead, had vanished. Maybe it had been back in Afghanistan, before all this trouble started.

Maybe it had never really been there at all.

_"Boss, could you do that to us? What Morrison did?"_

"_No. Not in a million years."_

"_Yeah, but you didn't see it coming, though."_

Until now the team leader had been able to forget the doubt in his second's voice; he'd been able to forgive it, to stow the guilt away and remind himself that Face didn't really mean it.

But now, now the words kept playing, rolling in his head like a video on loop, over and over and _over!_

"Hannibal, we're gonna have to stop for gas soon, man."

And by now he couldn't say that he blamed Face for those feelings, those doubts. He had meant it when he said that he would rather face a firing squad than betray his boys. And he hadn't betrayed them.

But he _had_ failed them.

Hell, he'd been failing them since Afghanistan. He'd failed to stop Pike, to foresee Russ's betrayal. He'd failed to keep them out of prison, and then he'd failed to do what he had sworn he would. He'd failed to clear their names, and now they were on the run, fugitives again, maybe forever, and it was entirely -

"Hannibal?"

-entirely his fault.

"Hannibal, you alright?"

It was only when Face addressed him that Hannibal realized anyone had spoken at all. He blinked slowly, his eyes gritty and burning from exhaustion as he turned to meet the concerned gazes of his men. "Sorry," he said to no one in particular before turning to B.A. "What's up, big guy?"

"We're gonna have to stop for gas soon," B.A repeated, giving the former colonel a frown of concern - it wasn't like Hannibal to be so distracted.

Hannibal glanced down at the gas meter, the needle that hovered just above "E" taking far too long to register in his brain. He tried to shake himself out of it, but dammit, he just couldn't _think_!

"We should probably ditch the car soon, too," Face spoke up from the back. "It's probably been reported as stolen by now."

The colonel simply nodded in agreement. That sounded right. "Find a hotel or something, B.A," he ordered wearily, trying again to shake himself out of his dazed funk. "We'll leave the car somewhere, get some rest, and move on in the morning."

"Find a gas station or supermarket first, Bosco," Face added, his tone half-questioning in order to make sure Hannibal approved. "Murdock's gonna need some painkillers soon."

Hannibal grimaced, knowing that he should have thought of that already. Had he enough energy to waste he would have been disgusted with himself - it wasn't Face's job to think of these sort of things, dammit! It was _his_. His job to make the plans, his job to get them out of trouble, his job to keep his boys safe.

But Face had been picking up Hannibal's slack for days now. Ever since they got back from Frankfurt, ever since they'd all discovered that Morrison had been alive, that he'd been the one to betray them back in Afghanistan.

Face had been the one to get them out of the prison van, to find them a car, to get them out of LA. And now he was still picking up after Hannibal, thinking of all the details, making all the plans because the older man just _couldn't_.

"There, B.A," the exhausted colonel - _former colonel_, his mind supplied helpfully - said, pointing to a roadside station just ahead. "Go ahead and stop there. We'll find a hotel after."

B.A pulled up to the station and Face, who of all of them looked the least like he had just gone twenty rounds in the ring and lost, went inside to grab what they needed. Fortunately there had been money in the glove-box of the purloined car, otherwise they would have all been screwed.

The lieutenant returned after only a few short minutes, laden down with plastic bags full of chips, water, and pre-packaged sandwiches. "Owner says there's a motel just a mile or so up the road," he reported as he passed Murdock two advils and a bottle of water. "Cash only kind of place."

"Good work, Face," Hannibal nodded. Forcing himself to stir from his guilt-laden thoughts - there would be time for those later, for now he needed to focus - he looked back, eyeing Murdock with a concerned frown; the pilot had been abnormally quite for the whole ride, though Hannibal couldn't say that he blamed him. His own ribs were aching him from the bullets "Lynch" had so casually sent flying into his chest; he could only imagine that Murdock's head probably felt a thousand times worse.

"How're you doin', Captain?"

Murdock looked up from cradling his head, offering a wobbly but sincere smile. "I'm alright, Bossman."

Hannibal almost snorted but managed to catch himself, knowing that his ribs wouldn't like it. Murdock looked far from 'alright', but then again, how many people could get shot in the head and come out looking good? The EMTs had declared Murdock fit aside from a light concussion - to be honest they had gotten lucky, the damage could have been so much worse.

"You sure, Murdock?"

"Just a little turbulence," the pilot answered with as much cheer as he could manage, tapping his forehead in the same way he would tap a faulty instrument. "I'll get my bearin's back in no time."

The team leader cracked a small - _very small_ - smile, though it made his face ache to do so. "Good."

For the final ten minutes it took to reach the tiny motel the car was silent again, each man sinking back into their own thoughts.

The car eventually slowed and stopped and Hannibal blinked hard as he yet again had to drag himself back to the present. A tiny motel, one of those hole-in-the-wall places, greeted him, a neon sign blinking lazily to announce that there were rooms to be had.

"Nice place," Face muttered, but there was no real sarcasm behind the words. At this point anywhere would have suited the young con-man, so long as it had a bed and - eventually - a shower.

"As far as I'm concerned it's the Four Seasons," Murdock muttered amiably, peeking out of his window with a cautions squint. B.A kept silent, indifferent as to the state of the place - he'd slept in worse places. They all had.

"I'll get us a room," Hannibal said as he shoved open his door. "Face, you and BA go ditch the car and get back here A.S.A.P." To be honest, he wasn't too keen on the idea of them splitting up; but the car had to be hidden, and Face and B.A could both look after themselves. "Murdock'll stay with me."

Face nodded and moved to help Murdock out of the car. The pilot swayed and staggered a little but otherwise seemed to be fine, if one could ignore the lines around his eyes that spoke of pain and exhaustion, that was.

Hannibal dragged himself from the passenger seat, feeling every one of his fifty-one(*) years as he did so. He wasn't prepared for the dizziness that washed over him as he pulled himself upright and he quickly sagged against the car, physically feeling the blood drain from his face.

"Boss?"

Face's voice was hazy and muffled, leaving Hannibal feeling as though his ears were full of cotton. The worry could still be heard, though, and Hannibal forced himself to straighten.

"Come on, Murdock," the former colonel said, taking the pilot's arm and ignoring the look that Face was giving him. Behind them the car could be heard to pull away and Hannibal felt his stomach tighten in sudden panic, which he barely managed to quash. They would be back as soon as they ditched the car, he told himself firmly.

The room wasn't much, but it was the best they were going to get for a meager twenty-five dollars. The beds were clean, at least, and the shower worked, and at the moment that was all that mattered.

As soon as they entered Murdock immediately went and curled up on the nearest bed, his head tucked up under a pillow to keep out too much light or sound. Hannibal looked on with a concerned and sympathetic frown, though a part of him was secretly and selfishly glad that the Pilot wasn't his usual talkative self - he really didn't think he could handle trying to decode too much Murdock-speak just then.

When it came to himself the older man kept well away from the beds, and instead paced the length of the room, knowing that if he sat down he wasn't likely to get back up again. His body ached for rest, but it was just going to have to wait until Face and B.A got back, and maybe longer. His boys came first; he'd look to himself after.

It seemed to take an eternity, each passing second twisting painfully in the former Army Ranger's gut like a knife, but eventually Face and B.A returned, each looking exhausted beyond anything but also no worse than when they had left. Face carried the bags from the station they'd stopped at, passing out sandwiches and chips to everyone but Murdock; the pilot wasn't hungry, probably thanks to the concussion.

"Any sign of trouble?" Hannibal asked, taking the proffered food and staring at it blankly. He wasn't any more hungry that Murdock was, though for entirely different reasons. He knew that he should eat, though, even if the simple act of peeling back the plastic wrap made his stomach turn.

"Naw, colonel," B.A reported, shaking his head. "Ain't nobody out here but some locals, and they ain't no trouble."

"Good," Hannibal said, though it came out as more of a sigh than anything. "We'll head out in the morning."

The room feel silent again, Face and B.A each wolfing down their sandwiches in a way that reminded Hannibal that they hadn't eaten since early yesterday. He was going to have to watch that in the future - no sense in anyone starving themselves because he was too wrapped up in his own problems to remind them to stop for food. As for himself, he ate a third of the ham-and-cheese sandwich and a single potato ship, each bite sticking in his throat like glue, before he gave up and tossed the rest. Face and BA each frowned but made no comment, each knowing that there were times that it was just best not to argue with the boss-man.

"You boys get some rest," Hannibal ordered quietly after a while, pausing in his otherwise constant pacing just long enough to glance at the two men and motion vaguely towards the beds.

"You could do with a bit of that yourself, boss," Face said, staring at Hannibal with his frown still in place. The former colonel could practically _feel_ the worry oozing out of the younger man and it made his stomach turn. "I'll take first watch," Face continued. "You should get some sleep."

Hannibal shook his head. "I'm fine, Lieutenant," he said dismissively. He avoided Face's gaze, knowing that the young man would see through any ruse he tried to put up; Face had been with him too long to buy it, and he could read the team leader almost as easily as the older man could read him.

"Boss-"

"I said I'm _fine,_ Face," the grey-haired man interrupted, a hint of annoyance creeping in to his tone.

The con-man's face hardened and he stared at his CO with a look that clearly said that he didn't believe him. Hannibal met the younger man's gaze and suddenly something inside him seemed to snap, the disbelief in Face's eyes reminding him of another time not so long ago when Face had given him a very similar look.

_"Boss, could you do that to us? ... You didn't see it coming, though... You didn't see it."_

"I'm going to get some ice," he stammered, grabbing blindly at the chipped plastic bin that was masquerading as an ice bucket. Hannibal doubted the ice-machine even worked, but he suddenly needed to get out of the room and away from his men, away from all the doubt and the _guilt _that was once again eating a hole in his stomach.

"Hannibal-"

He shut the door before Face could finish his protest, not-quite slamming it in his rush to just _get away_. Hannibal Smith wasn't a man who often retreated from anything, but in that moment he knew there was no way he could continue to hold himself together while Face and the others continued to stare him down.

_Get a hold of yourself, soldier! _He snarled angrily at himself as he strode away from the room, ice-bucket forgotten and abandoned on one of the rusty benches that lined the walls of the motel walkway. He headed away from the front of the building, circling around the back without even knowing where he was going. He needed some fresh air, something to help clear his head. To be honest what he _really_ needed was a cigar. Or even a cigarette. Anything to help take the edge off, to help bring him back into focus. But his last cigars had been confiscated by the DOD upon their second arrest, so he would just have to go without.

With a ragged gasp Hannibal eventually ceased his almost-jog, nearly doubling over as his battered ribs suddenly came alive and screamed in protest at his newest abuse. Dots swam along the edges of his vision but he ignored them, focusing on just breathing again. Somehow he ended up on the ground with his back to the wall, his blue eyes clenched shut in an attempt to ward of the shooting spikes of pain that weren't all physical.

"_I was a _week away_ from my parole hearing... Could you do that to us? ...You didn't see it coming..."_

_"How long did you know it was Morrison?"_

_I never thought he'd betray his oldest living friend..._

"_You didn't see it coming..."_

"_I just hit first, Hannibal, I'm a fighting man! ... Hannibal, don't do this... You owe me that much..."_

"_What's the plan now, Bossman? ...We trusted the system and it burned us!"_

"_...What's the plan, Hannibal? What is it?"_

_I don't know, Murdock, Face, Bosco! I don't know... I'm sorry... I don't know... I don't know!_

"I don't know!" The admission came in a single gasp of misery, revealing the entire crux of Hannibal's problem. He just _didn't know_ anymore! Things had once been so simple, the plans all falling together almost of their own accord, but now... now the "jazz" was gone. Now his team doubted him, he doubted _himself_, and his whole world was going to hell in a hand basket while he just sat there, unable to stop it.

"Hannibal?"

The call came from somewhere in the distance, forcing its way past the screaming guilt to reach Hannibal's awareness. It was repeated and the former colonel knew that he should answer, but didn't have the energy to do so. Besides, whether he answered or not Face would come looking for him, and he wanted to avoid being found for as long as possible.

"Hannibal, man, where are you?"

That was B.A. With a sigh Hannibal knew that he needed to get up and join them - or else get somewhere further away, and just then the latter sounded like the best idea. He shoved himself up the wall only to fall right back down again, his chest constricting around his ribs so tightly that it felt like someone had wrapped him in a steel band that was constantly getting tighter and tighter until he literally couldn't breathe.

"Hanni- _holy shit! Hannibal!_"

From far away Hannibal felt someone grab him, a warm hand pressing against his cheek and neck while another held his shoulder to keep him steady. There was a distant hum in his ears that indicated that someone was talking to him, but what they were saying he couldn't even begin to guess.

"C'mon, Han...lll ...eathe...! ...Bre...or me. ...mmit, Ha-b'l, ...eathe!"

Eventually his body understood the commands even if his brain didn't, and with pained gasps Hannibal breathed, each new intake sending spikes through him until he just wished that he could stop again.

"That's it, Hannibal, just breathe. - Bosco!"

Eventually the former colonel's sight cleared enough that he could see as well as hear the man before him. Face stared down - _when had he ended up on his back? -_ at him, his grey-blue eyes bright with fear and worry and anger, and Hannibal felt his chest tighten again.

"Dammit, Hannibal, what the hell -"

"I'm sorry."

Face verbally stumbled, his eyes widening in confusion. "Boss-"

"This whole things is... is my fault... I'm sorry, Face."

"What you talkin' 'bout, fool?" B.A rumbled, and the weary ex-soldier realized that the big man was there too, sitting just behind him with Hannibal's head resting on his knees.

"Bossman, this ain't your fault." Murdock? With a heavy feeling in his gut Hannibal discovered that each of his men were there, circling around him with worried expressions. His heart sank as he realized that they he was losing it as they all stood by and watched. No wonder they doubted him! He couldn't even keep himself together, how was he supposed to look after each of them?

"Hannibal, what are you talking about?"

With a start the older man realized that he had been talking aloud, his incoherent thoughts flowing like a leaky tap past his lips, spilling out without his consent. He really _was_ useless; even Murdock wasn't crazy enough to babble like an uncontrollable idiot.

"Hannibal - Hannibal _stop."_

Out of instinct bred through years of military discipline, the Ranger obeyed, focusing every ounce of his strength on keeping his traitorous mouth shut as he met Face's eyes again.

"Hannibal, man, you know I don't take you for no fool," B.A rumbled, his big black hand coming to rest on the fallen colonel's shoulder. "But right now you talkin' crazier than Murdock, man. None of this is your fault."

"Bosco's right, Bossman," Murdock agreed, his tone more serious and solemn than Hannibal had heard in a long time. "This ain't your fault. It's them DOD fellas lookin' for someone to blame is all. S'nobody's fault but theirs. Well, and Morrison's... and Lynch's... and Pike's... and all them for gettin' us into this mess in the first place."

"I should have seen it coming," Hannibal said, his voice hoarse with grief and pain. "I promised you boys I'd clear our names, that I'd protect you."

"Hey, you did your best, man," B.A replied. "Like that crazy fool said, it ain't your fault the DOD burned us. You did what you could, Hannibal, ain't none of us blamin' you for it and you know it."

"Hannibal, look, forget what I said on the docks. I was angry, boss, and I didn't mean it. I know you'd never betray us, okay? Honest." Face forced Hannibal to meet his gaze again, holding it as he willed the man he thought of as a father to believe him.

"But you were right," the colonel sighed, his baby-blue eyes clenching shut in guilt, unable to meet their gazes any longer. "I should have seen what Russ was planning -"

"Hey! Nobody is perfect, Hannibal. You can't see _everything. _You can't be right _every time._ It's okay, you're only human."

Baby-blues flickering open again to glance around and meet the gazes of each of his men, Hannibal felt the cold knot of guilt that had been suffocating him for so long now slowly begin to ease.

"We'll still follow you anywhere, Hannibal," Face said quietly, Murdock and B.A nodding in agreement. "And we still trust you - we've _always_ trusted you - no matter how much you might doubt it."

Hannibal swallowed hard and blinked, the knot if his chest growing and shrinking in a painful, steady rhythm as he struggled to accept what he was being told. Eventually Face managed a small, slightly sad smile. "Funny thing about trust, though - it's a two way street. You don't always have to look after us, Hannibal. Sometimes it's our job to return the favor. Okay?"

That statement hit hard and clashed against everything Hannibal believed. They were his _boys_, and it was his job to protect _them_! It wasn't supposed to be the other way around.

"Boss, come on," Face insisted, and Hannibal realized he'd been talk aloud again. "Don't go there."

"It's awful lonely at the top, Bossman," Murdock interjected wisely. "It wouldn't hurt for you to come down and let us help out now and then."

Hannibal still fought against all the implications, too many years of military rhetoric making it hard to accept what his boys were saying. An officer must always be above his men, he must always be better. _He_ must look after them, must never show weakness in front of those under him. It had been ingrained in Hannibal for years, and it was a hard belief to let go of.

Murdock was right though, it _was_ lonely at the top. Then again, this wasn't the Army anymore. They were on their own now, and maybe... maybe it didn't have to be _quite_ so lonely now. At least not all the time.

After a long moment of hesitance in which the blue-eyed colonel struggled to accept what Face and Murdock had said, he nodded, giving in and accepting - if only just this once - that maybe he didn't have to _always_ be solid. "Okay, boys. You win."

A small but genuinely happy grin flashed across the con-man's features as his boss nodded his acceptance, and Murdock and Bosco both looked relieved. Maybe _now_ Hannibal would finally get it. Because to them "team" didn't mean boss-man looking after his boys while he struggles on alone; for them "team" meant _family_, and in a family you all looked after each other so that no one was ever alone.

"We mean it, Boss," Face murmured as he and Bosco helped the fallen man to his feet. Each of them stood on either side to support him while Murdock jogged ahead to make sure there was nothing in the way.

"I know, kid," Hannibal breathed as they all four went back to the room together. "I know."

Once they got back to the room Hannibal tossed back a few painkillers and was practically tucked into bed by Murdock. He still couldn't think straight and the knot in his chest wasn't completely gone, but it was fading, and if B.A, Face, and Murdock had any say then the former colonel had no doubt that it would be gone soon enough.

Before his eyes drifted shut the exhausted colonel took one last look at his men, gratefulness blossoming in his chest and leaving him feeling more peaceful than he had in all the long months since Afghanistan. Things might not have gone the way they should have, but in the end they all still had each other.

_At least that much of the plan came together_, his mind whispered as he finally slipped off to sleep. Of all the things that had gone wrong in the past months, it could have ended so much worse, and Hannibal was beyond thankful that at least they were all still where they belonged.

His boys.

His team.

His _family._

By some twist of fate, in spite of all his mistakes, he still had that; maybe the rest didn't matter so much after all.

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><p>(*) I don't actually know how old Hannibal was in the movie. This is a rough guess based on his physical appearance (though I have to admit, Hannibal is probably the most bad-ass fifty-ish? year old man I have ever seen).<p>

_*cringe* Oi... I'm not going to lie, I can't decide whether I like or loathe the ending. Too fluffy, maybe? I tried to keep the fluff levels low, but I'm such a sucker for stuff like that... *sigh* Oh well, I hope someone enjoyed it anyway._

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are love!_


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